No Strings Attached
by p-attinson
Summary: Elijah visits Elena in the midst of preparing dinner in the Gilbert kitchen. When he arrives, the tension is thick and yet satisfying for both. He might even admit it.  One Shot


**Rating: T **

**Summary: Elijah find Elena preparing dinner in the Gilbert kitchen and offers to take over. **

**Author's note: I do not own TVD or any of the characters, if I did there would be change and lots of it.**

I sighed as I felt his stare.

"What are you doing here?" I muttered without turning.

"I wanted to pay you a visit," He answered. His voice, elegant, seemed to have a strange effect on my nerves. I ignored the sudden anxiety, keeping myself busy by stirring the tomato sauce in the pan in front of me. "No strings attached."

"Not a favor you need to ask?" I mumbled. I felt his hands graze my elbows as he stood close behind me.

Elijah chuckled, his breath tickling the back of my neck. Without answering my question, he leaned over me and poked his finger in the tomato sauce.

"Hey!" I screeched.

I turned to find his face inches from mine. I gulped inaudibly as he watched my eyes with a humored expression. He continued to taste my creation, then cleared his throat.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me how it is?" I crossed my arms, still offended by the sudden action.

"It needs fennel seed," He smirked. Then, he slowly extended his arm without moving, his lips barely touching mine and grabbed the bottle. He pulled back, gently pushed me aside and began to take over my fort.

I watched in amazement as he knew his way around the kitchen; it was as if he'd lived here his whole life. With my hands folded around each other, I gave up the fight. He was doing a better job than I would have ever dreamed.

"You make it look so easy," I sighed.

Elijah glanced back at me; a grin spread against his lips.

"That's because it is."

"When you've been around for more than two hundred years, I'm sure that's a legitiment statement." I tried to be serious, but when he laughed out loud, I couldn't help but smile.

"Cooking takes patience," He said. "You have to feel it."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Feel it?"

Elijah turned again and tilted his head, motioning me to come towards him. "I'll show you," and as I walked towards him, he grabbed my hand. "Take the spoon," He instructed. "And stir."

Feeling childish, I did what he told me. Although I could feel the thin separation between us, I chose to ignore it, waiting for a significant cooking miracle to happen.

"Is something going to happen?" I seemed to giggle lightly.

I felt Elijah's lips form into a smile against my ear. "No." He admitted.

I shook my head, amused. Tricky.

"But," He said, his hand grazing mine. "Cooking is an art."

I nodded. I've heard that before.

After a few more moments of stirring, Elijah turned down the oven's heat. "It should be done now…" He murmured.

In his grasp, I turned. His expression was neutral and I didn't feel fear, nor did I feel anxiety. Just comfort. With a intake of breath, I escaped from his hold and moved to the kitchen's island to cut some carrots.

"Please, be careful with that." Elijah warned.

I looked behind my shoulder. "Does it make you nervous?"

"Of course," He answered surely. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I continued to chop and felt his prescence float in the room. The tension in the air was thick enough to touch; I didn't want this.

"Why?" I asked.

His tone hinted I had pulled him from another train of thought. "I'm sorry?"

I had never seen him one step behind before; it perplexed me and irritated me at the same time.

"Why wouldn't you want anything to happen to me?"

Elijah was suddenly serious; his expression was now clear. He was nervous and as much as I hated to admit it, more interesting than Stefan or Damon in that moment. I set down the knife, along with my boundaries.

Elijah took a deep breath, walking towards me. He carefully grabbed the knife beside my hand then slammed it against the wood; I didn't even budge, for his eyes had locked me in place, but when I turned to see the damage that had been done the knife was simply standing stable by it's sharp end.

Gulping slowly, I watched as he raised a hand to cradle my cheek. Involuntarily, I leaned into his touch. He noticed, smirking. Then, in a soft, trembling, voice he answered, "Because I love you, Elena."


End file.
